


Alfred Takes a Vacation

by truc



Series: What are friends for? [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Ambush, Batfamily Shenanigans, Battle Royale?, Bruce pretends he does not, Cleaning Up, Dick too, Do not do this at home., Family good times, Gen, Jason has way too much fun, Mace - Freeform, Manor gets destroyed, Poison, Still a Tim vs Damian war, Throwing Knives, Traps, War, Weapons, Working through family issues with weapons, anger issues?, animals trained to attack, boomerang, but nobody cares, does this even count as fluff?, drones, fighting for fun?, fun?, lance - Freeform, mismatched alliances, negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-11-18 00:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18109535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truc/pseuds/truc
Summary: Alfred takes a vacation. Tim and Damian take over the Manor for an all-out war. Casualties are a foregone conclusion.***"Can't we just use the green button?""No," Bruce snarled back, "Once that is pressed, the damages are irreversible.""Yes, but, from what you told me, it's an emergency.""It's not yet a God-level emergency. Until it reached the threshold of imminent doom, do not, under any circumstances, press it."Clark was silent for a moment, glancing at the Manor from their forest cover. He nervously adjusted his glasses. "Bruce, are you sure there's something wrong? It looks so peaceful."Bruce nodded as he continued to strap various weapons on his legs. "All my kids are in the house."Clark's eyes widened and he whistled, impressed, "You weren't kidding about the direness of the situation."





	Alfred Takes a Vacation

"Can't we just use the green button?"

"No," Bruce snarled back, "Once that is pressed, the damages are irreversible."

"Yes, but, from what you told me, it's an emergency."

"It's not yet a God-level emergency. Until it reached the threshold of imminent doom, do not, under any circumstances, press it."

Clark was silent for a moment, glancing at the Manor from their forest cover. He nervously adjusted his glasses. "Bruce, are you sure there's something wrong? It looks so peaceful."

Bruce nodded as he continued to strap various weapons on his legs. "All my kids are in the house."

Clark's eyes widened and he whistled, impressed, "You weren't kidding about the direness of the situation. Are you sure I can't just fly in as I did in the last major crisis?"

Bruce shook his head, a serious look plastered on his face, "They've already calculated and prepared for your involvement into today's matter." He stood up and tied a black headband over his head, looking like a guerilla warrior.

"Do you remember the plan?" Bruce brusquely asked.

Clark nodded. "I think I can remember how to follow a plan."

"Don't jest," Bruce glared at him, "This is a matter of life and death."

Clark quirked an eyebrow.

Bruce gritted, "If Alfred can't let us alone for any period of time without it ending in a catastrophe, he will never go on a vacation again. One day, he will die of overwork and everyone will blame it on me."

Clark thinks about it for a moment before he puts his hand in front of Bruce. "For Alfred."

Bruce scowled at him. "I'm not putting my hand on yours."

Clark looked at him. "Why else would I participate in this disaster?"

"You find now of all times to learn how to negotiate?"

Clark shrugged. "Hey, it's never too late to learn. Besides, if I'm getting involved in a Damian vs Tim war without Alfred's presence, I should get something out of it."

Bruce continued to glare at him, his jaw shut tight.

Finally, he lowered his hand on Clark's.

"One, two, three, FOR ALFRED!" Clark yelled.

"...They'll hear us."

"Relax, we both know they know we are here. We are just showing our team spirit."

Bruce looked at the house, his face grim. "Let's get down to business." The stray ends of his headband flapped in the wind. Clark thought he looked exactly like a movie general somberly overlooking a desperate situation.

***

"We made it!" Clark couldn't help but exclaim when they reached the Manor. They had fought off hordes of squirrels and drones; they had had to survive poisonous bombs, pitfalls, arrows triggered minefields and sniping from the Manor and more specifically from Jason. "He shoots in a recognizable pattern," Bruce had stated a bit earlier. Even Clark could see it: Bruce's forehead and crotch areas were his main targets. At least, he only used water, flour or paint bullets.

Bruce nodded, "Now's the hard part."

Clark blinked at him, "But squirrels' attack! And drones! And sleeping potions!"

"Distractions, nothing more," Bruce pointed out, "They want to tire me out. Don't forget that despite Tim's and Damian's war, the one everyone wants to beat is me."

Clark knew better than to contradict him, "Why would they want to defeat you? I mean, I kind of get why Jason would, but why would Dick, Tim and Damian want to defeat you?"

"Because I don't lose," Bruce answered.

Comprehension dawned on Clark, "Ah, so you're basically the king in King of the hill? They all want to drag you down and dethrone you while Alfred isn't here to put an end to this madness."

The other man glared at him, "That's not the parallel I aiming for."

Clark rolled his eyes. Of course not, it is undignified to compare this ultra-sophisticated Batfamily war to a child's game.

"Concentrate," Clark heard Bruce's sharp order, "There's much at stakes here."

Apparently, this childish war game between the members of the Batfamily had higher stakes than all the world-endangering events Batman and Superman had stopped. Clark shook his head.

Bruce stopped and narrowed his eyes at him, "Don't use sarcasm."

"I didn't say anything."

"You are currently making sarcastic comments in your head."

"Am not," Clark answered, miffed. If he didn't make sarcastic comments in his head once in a while, he wouldn't have survived encounters with his friend's family for this long.

"You are doing it again."

"There's no way you would know if I did. You can't read my mind," Clark bit back.

Bruce didn't immediately answer. Clark stretched his neck in his direction, "You still can't, right?"

Bruce's lips cruelly curled up and he stepped forward, leaving a worried Clark to catch up.

"Please tell me you didn't invent a gadget that does. I have to have my privacy somewhere..."

Bruce threw a green garden gnome into the living room's window.

"Why did you do that!?! The front door is unlocked!"

Bruce stepped inside, "The door is obviously a trap. Besides, that horrible thing had it coming."

Any words Clark might have said were interrupted by a spray of rubber bullets and an evil laugh coming from the stairs, "Mahahawah!"

Clark and Bruce hid behind the couch. "Jason," Clark whispered, "how did he know we were going to enter from there?"

Bruce ground his teeth as his eyes searched for a way up, "The gnome must have been part of Damian's plan. He must have bought it on Father's Day because he knew I hated those things. He must have known I'd used the war as an opportunity to get rid of it. In that case, he's been planning this for at least three months."

In one swift movement, Bruce stood and threw four daggers as he tucked and rolled behind a sofa. Jason just continued to laugh, his tone took a pitch of madness that made Clark wince in worry.

Bruce looked at Clark and gestured above with his hands in a complicated movement. Clark nodded and cautiously rolled to the wall where the staircase was placed.

"So," he heard someone say "What's the plan?"

Clark prudently turned around and saw Dick, in an oversized sweatshirt, casually munching popcorn out of Jason's line of fire. A smoke grenade (or was it a poisonous grenade?) fell at Clark's feet from the staircase.

Clark used his superspeed in his arms to push up the smoke.

"Regroup," Bruce gestured. They both joined Dick out of Jason's line of fire. Bigger shots were fired again.

"What's the plan?" Dick lazily repeated.

Bruce frowned at the smoke.

"B?" Clark asked.

Bruce whirled around, sending two daggers Dick's way to try and restrain his movement. Dick cartwheeled back, dropping his popcorn bowl to crash on the floor. Bruce's oldest brushed off his pants as he asked with a dazzling smile, "How did you know?"

Clark was officially confused.

Bruce moved toward Dick, face serious, "I know Jason is working with Damian because of the gnome. Tim is not one to be blinded by his opponent's strategy. However, what really tipped me off was the fact you are down here instead of filming Damian and Tim going at it. If you were really neutral, that's what you would do."

Dick grinned, "You know me too well."

"Now," Bruce ordered as he stepped closer, a dagger in each hand, "Tell me what Damian did to get Jason on his team."

Dick evaded the knife attacks and breezily answered, "Easy. He offered him immunity."

Bruce stepped out of range of Dick's leg attack. The bigger man grunted in displeasure.

Clark raised a hand, "I'm sorry. I don't get it."

Dick smiled at him as he dodged Bruce's leg swipe, "Damian is taking all of Jason's house damages' responsibility on himself. Meaning, Alfred would blame Damian for all of Jason's property damage."

Bruce quickly threw a knife and managed to slightly unbalance Dick with a punch, "Offering immunity to Jason is foolish; he won't even try to control the damages. What did Tim offer you?"

"Trying to bribe me?" Dick's hand nicked Bruce's headband as he sent a hook his way. "Timmy offered me one hour at the photo booth with him. He agreed to follow my lead in the photo pose to take. Wanna outbid him?"

Bruce grimaced. Clark just looked at the dissipating smoke and saw a leather-clad guy with- wait, was that a mace with pointy ends?

"I was looking for you both," Jason grimly laughed, "I'll bash your two heads in, you f*cking *ssholes." He jumped in the fray, swinging his mace at Bruce.

Bruce ducked under it and took something from his endless supply of weapons. He pressed something on it and it grew longer. It looked like a lance.

Dick rolled a few steps back and jumped on the kitchen's table.

Bruce's eyes flickered at Clark to let him know the way was open for his ascension. Clark nodded and ran up, still secure in his conclusion they were completely insane.

"Whose's head should I bash in first?" Jason helpfully grinned.

Bruce shook his head, "Nobody's head needs to be bash. We have to stop this madness."

Jason's smile grew in evilness. "You first, old man, then."

This time, when Jason swung his mace, Bruce caught it with his lance just beside the chains, "I think it is time I schooled you in the art of the lance." He used a knife to throw an attack at Jason with his other hand.

He had to back down when he felt a displacement of air. A boomerang. Both he and Jason glared at Dick still looking at them from his perch on the table. He shrugged, "What? Boomerangs are cool, you know." He easily caught back his boomerang, "You both forgot me again."

As if to prove him wrong, Jason charged at Dick and swung the mace at him. Dick jumped back but was shot with the rubber bullet gun Jason had hidden in his other hand.

"Father, I have been murdered. Avenge my death." Dick dramatically crashed in a chair with one hand on his forehead like a stereotypical swooning lady. The table cracked where Jason had hit it with the mace.

"Jason," Bruce's voice cut through the room with a disapproving tone.

Dick threw another boomerang his way. Bruce dodged it again and he felt the chandelier falling on him. Dick grinned from his place of safety. Of course, he had rigged the chandelier; his kids were startlingly good at ambushing him. Bruce jumped out of the way and shielded himself from Dick's next boomerang attack with his lance.

The chandelier smashed into tiny pieces on the hard floor. Jason, with murder in his eyes, used that as a distraction, to propel himself forward near Dick. The oldest son threw a priceless candle holder at his face. Jason pushed it out of his way with his gun hand.

Dick ran. "I'm not Bruce. Why do I feel you want to murder me?"

Jason roared, "Three days ago, I prepared cookies and pies during a whole day and I sent a memo to everyone NOT TO EAT THEM. I had to leave them to cool here and the next morning, they were all missing! I had promised Leslie I would contribute to the Clinic's fundraising, you heartless monster! I wasted another day to redo everything!"

"Someone else may have taken them, Jay," Dick nonchalantly pointed out as he dodged another enraged attack, "Nobody listens to anyone's memos, except if it comes from Alfred."

Jason's eyes grew wild, "The others just steal a few. You're the only literal cookie monster in this house who is sick enough to eat it all. You've gone too far this time! You touched my f*cking pastries!"

Dick smiled in a sorry-not-sorry manner that even Bruce wanted to wipe off his face. It was sure to infuriate Jason even more.

Jay leg swiped at Dick who stepped out of the attack range. Jason's leg got pinned down by two of Bruce's daggers while Dick's arm got stuck into the wall by three daggers in his Police academy sweatshirt's sleeves.

"You're both distracted," Bruce chided, "Never forget your surroundings."

Jason's angry face turned in his direction, "You useless fucking toilet paper. You can't even take care of your own shits; don't put your ass where it doesn't belong." Jason lifted his leg, thus breaking his pants where the daggers had been stuck.

Dick giggled, "You call him toilet paper and ass, Jay. You're really a kid, inside." He was so amused with the situation he hadn't even tried to get out of the pinned position of his hand.

Jason swung the mace in his direction while he shot his rubber bullets at Bruce. The older man dodged the attack and closed in toward their location. Dick lazily shrugged off his sweatshirt. Both Bruce and Jason glared at him when they noticed he was naked under it.

"Put a f*cking shirt on," Jason ordered, "This is not a strip bar."

Bruce could not agree more. There was no reason for Dick to even wear a sweatshirt today and even less to have nothing underneath it; everyone had known this day was going to devolve into an open war. There were such things as preparation. Maybe, a small voice insisted in Bruce's head, this was Dick's preparation to destabilize Bruce and Jason. Neither were particularly comfortable with other people's nudity. Bruce grounded his teeth. He would not let Dick gain the psychological upper hand.

Dick proudly rolled his upper body to show off his muscle, "Greeks fought naked. Maybe we should too. Come on, it's gonna be fun!" He beckoned them with his fingers. Bruce moved forward, still following the walls while Jason wasn't sure whom to attack first. Dick smirked and cocked his head. "Seeing how you're both taller and heavier, you'd both have the advantage if we wrestle. That should count as something."

Bruce used the opportunity to kick a chair at his oldest while he threw his knives at Jason.

Jason's hesitation vanished as he smiled and threw a bomb (smoke or poison?) at Dick's feet and heaved his mace in Bruce's direction. The battle was on.

***  
Meanwhile...

 

Clark ran upstairs looking for traps as he did. Bruce had rattled on which traps his kids were most likely to use on the upper level, but he also said Clark would trigger most of them anyway.

Which room were they in? It had to be spacey, but not exaggeratedly so.

Knives fell on his skin. Clark looked at his clothes. Another set ruined... At least, he had chosen his clothes with their destruction probability factor in mind.

He saw a cow mooing in the hallway. Titus seemed to be chilling out with her. How were the animals trained again? Clark was a superhero with lots of experience under his belt and he still fell in the Batfamily's traps, yet the animals were just unwinding in middle of the Batfamily's war? Clark felt a small part of jealousy before he recognized it was stupid to feel jealous of a cow and a dog stuck in the Manor. Maybe he should pity them instead... Did their training count as animal cruelty?

Clark pondered that as he waded across the traps. On the upside, the animals taken in by Damian seemed happy and healthy. On the downside, they might be trained to be a future vigilante. Titus the batdog. No, no. He would need a secret identity. Titan the batdog. Not catchy enough.

Maybe this was Damian's retirement plan? If Bruce's retirement plan was training weirdos as vigilantes, it was very much possible Damian had inherited his father's genes on that front and had made it even weirder. Would Titus be the one handling the Kryptonite? Clark could picture Jon getting mind-controlled and being saved by Titus. Strangely enough, that was a reassuring image for Clark. He sidestepped a guillotine buried in the ceiling and floor.

Finally, he arrived at the room he'd seen the two human bodies with his X-ray vision. He glanced up and down. This was Bruce's room. Of course, they'd make the bigger mess there.

Clark sighed as he pushed open the door.

The sight that greeted him was... surreal. Hordes of squirrels were jumping on drones to dismantle them (were they trained to dismantle bombs?) while nets were launched by the drones on the squirrels. Bruce's bed was all but demolished and his wardrobe hadn't fared much better. Tim and Damian were both smiling like maniacs under the blood flowing down their faces. Damian held his famous katana on hand while Tim held his staff. He could see the green glow from Tim's necklace. As Clark shuffled in place to get a better sense of the madness, Damian threw himself at Tim, some sort of crazy brotherly love glint in his eyes. Tim hit him back with the same glint in his.

Clark wanted to facepalm. The Batfamily's show of acceptance and sibling love of one another had to be as weird as their overall behaviour.

A squirrel jumped on Tim as a distraction and the older boy lost his calm for half a second, which was largely enough for the younger boy to take advantage of the opening. Tim sent the squirrel Damian's way. "Hester!" the younger boy yelled with all the drama of the high point of an action movie.

Damian caught the squirrel and flicked her on his shoulder. "You'll pay for that, you villainous monster!" he swore with the solemnity only Damian could manage to avoid sounding like a cheap line from a B-movie.

Who needs movies when your friend is Batman?

Clark thought for a moment before clapping his hands to gather everyone's attention. "As fun as this is, I think we should put this to an end." The squirrels continued to rain upon the smallish drones.

Damian warily eyed him. "Not until we get a clear winner."

Fat chance of that ever happening, Clark thought.

"Aren't you going to jump in and save us from ourselves?" Tim taunted.

Clark quirked one eyebrow up, trying to ignore the trapped squirrel who fell on his back. "You both have Kryptonite on yourselves even though the one on display is fake. Let's be mature about this and I won't have to call Alfred." This was bluff Bruce had not wanted him to make. Tough.

Neither boy seemed appalled at the threat. "Bruce is going to be the one taking the brunt of it. He's the only one stupid enough to let shame stop him," Tim calmly noted.

"We are prepared to face Pennyworth's punishment as long as we finally settle this fight."

Clark wanted to explain how nobody was ever ready to face Alfred's wrath. But, then again, wasn't this cute that they were rebelling against Alfred together (even if it was only in his absence)? Wasn't it a big step forward in the acknowledgement of their brotherly bond? Clark felt his eyes water. What was this heartwarming sensation coursing through his body? Were they publicly acknowledging "feelings"? How they had grown up... Clark was so proud of them. Just yesterday, they were trying to kill one another...

"What are you doing?" Damian's sharp voice interrupted his thought-process.

Tim cocked his head in his direction and typed in another command to his drones. "Did you mistake the quantity of poison needed to affect an adult Kryptonian?"

"I do not make mistakes in my calculations," Damian protested. Hester growled at Tim from his shoulder. Clark found it so cute.

Tim snapped up his staff. "I seem to remember a certain episode in which you miscalculated the antitoxin needed."

Damian launched a vicious attack, "At least, I didn't give food poisoning to Father with my coffee."

"The source of the food poisoning he suffered was undetermined," Tim retorted with the same aggressivity.

Clark finally remembered why he had come here. He whistled really loudly, making both combatants and all the squirrels flinch. A big sound shock was heard. Krypto was coming.

Unfortunately, Clark's dog faltered outside the house. Damian, Tim and Clark watched on in horror as the white dog fell towards the ground from perpendicularly above them.

Damian ran and crashed through his father's balcony to catch the dog in his arms. Tim got his hands on Damian's legs before his younger brother could crash on the Manor ground. The drones caught his legs and they made a perpendicular line two feet above the ground.

The drones brought them back to their father's trashed room. Damian verified the dog was fine before whipping his head around. "What were you thinking! You almost killed Krypto with your stupidity! You knew we had Kryptonian safeguards all around us and you called your faithful dog? What is wrong with you!"

Tim's piercing eyes read through Clark's shock and the older boy laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "This was Bruce's plan."

Damian looked furious as he waved his squirrels to back off of the fight. He stomped downstairs without a second glance. Clark stared at the open door.

"Congratulations," Tim said as he crossed his arms, "You stopped our war."

Clark blinked at him. "You're not angry at Bruce?"

Tim shrugged. "The dog was never really in danger. If Damian had taken the time to observe the object on its collar, he would have seen there was a safety mechanism stopping the dog from hitting the ground."

"That's not what you told Damian," Clark dryly noted.

Tim looked at his fingers. "It seems appropriate to make Bruce pay for this."

"Maybe we should go down."

Tim agreed, "Video image is not the same as first-hand experience."

Walking down the stairs was quite the experience. Everything breakable had been broken and then some. Bruce was fighting off his katana ball of fury with a boomerang and a knife while Jason used the lance to poke on a boxer-clad Dick smirkingly defending himself with Jason's mace. Clark didn't want to know why Dick had undressed himself to this extent.

Tim prodded him in the ribs. "Aren't you going to make it stop?"

"I'm Superman, not a miracle worker."

Tim tsked. He shifted through the items he had on his body until he smiled at one of them. He yelled, "Catch!"

Clark had no idea how Titus had come downstairs but the dog jumped in the middle of the fray with Krypto to catch the tennis ball Tim had thrown. Every fighter stopped and moved out of the dogs' way.

Bruce heaved a relieved breath. "I think it's time for a cleanup."

Dick seemed disappointed. "I didn't even get the chance to remove my socks."

Jay glared at him. "You're putting a shirt on now, *sshole. The kids don't need to see your horrible exhibitionism streak. You're supposed to be the responsible one."

Dick put his hands on his hips with a pout. "You're just scared they'll think I'm cooler than you."

"Dick," Tim started, "Jason is way cooler than you. He wears leather jackets. You wear leotards."

Dick sent a wounded look his way before turning to Damian for help.

"Eating 'Fluffy Pink Bunyss' for breakfast is the antithesis of the slang definition of 'cool', Grayson."

Dick's pitiful eyes beseeched Clark for help. The older man ruefully shook his head.

Dick finally turned to Bruce. "Please tell me I'm cool, Bruce," he pleaded.

Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes in exasperation. "You're cool, Dick."

His eldest son proudly pointed at him as he told everyone else, "See? I'm cool."

"Dick, you do know it's uncool for your parents to think you're cool?" Clark mournfully interrupted the obviously meaner responses the other kids had on the tip of their tongues.

Bruce waved them to be quiet as he dialled a number. "Yes. Yes, the Manor this time. When were your last photos updated? Ah? Okay. Yes, actually, I have a request. Forget the gnome. If I'm sure? The one we had had sentimental value because it was my son's gift, but it's not the same if it comes from your company. Yes. I know you pride yourself in restoring places exactly like they were beforehand. Still, the gnome doesn't need to be replaced. What happened? Oh, the usual. One of my sons threw a party invite online and it got a little out of control... Yes. Yes. No. Yes. I'm just making sure; do you still have the exact replicas of every item in the living room and kitchen? Yes. How soon can you come? Okay. Again. Kids are the most darn things on Earth. You can't live without them, but, man, do they make your life painful sometimes. I see. Two daughters? Any parenting advice you have on how to keep them from destroying the house? Oh. Really. You don't say... Well, boys aren't so bad. Except for their flaring tempers, terrible eating and dressing habits, rebelling nature and basic manipulativeness... Yes. Wonders of nature. They're all real bundles of joy. I see. Okay. Again, thanks."

Bruce hung up and glared at everyone. "We have twenty minutes to change this battlefield into Tim's party gone rogue." He whirled in Jason's direction. "Don't overdo it with your drug samples this time. The last thing I need is a social worker asking me why there was ecstasy at my sixteen-year-old's party."

Bruce turned to Dick. "Don't overdo it this time with the used sex toys. It's not a sexual orgy fantasy. Damian is still thirteen years old. He doesn't need to catch three of his brother's friends doing it in the bathroom. We're still working on the narrative both Damian and Tim are mostly well-adjusted kids. They are living in a safe household."

Bruce looked at Damian. "You better find a good explanation for all the squirrels' marks in the house."

Finally, he glanced at Tim. "Erase all traces of drones in the house. Don't splash all my priciest alcohol on the walls and carpet. Kids your age also drink cheap beer. This is not a gala."

"Now, let's get to it," Bruce ordered, "Alfred is coming back in exactly twelve hours. We are cutting this very close."

The kids dispersed without any complaints and Clark walked up to Bruce. He inserted his hands in his jean's pockets. "Well, using Krypto to rally Damian against you worked perfectly. Maybe, next time, let me know my dog is not going to crash to its death."

Bruce sighed. "Damian would have known I was manipulating the situation. It was better for it to seem a miscalculation on your part."

Clark slapped Bruce's back. "I'll forgive you this time. Next time, you better have something to deal with the squirrels. I think I'm going to have nightmares about them for the rest of my life."

"You face killer robots equipped with Kryptonite on a daily basis. Why are so worried about harmless squirrels?"

Clark shook his head. "I fear they might be upgraded to include Kryptonite cleavers. Besides, squirrels are supposed to be cute and fluffy. Killer robots are supposed to be scary."

Bruce squinted at him. "Cleavers? What's wrong with cleavers?"

"Nothing, I guess." Compare to the rest of the Batfamily's weapons, cleavers were kind of innocent-looking, Clark decided.

***

Barbara spoke into her cellphone, "Who won?"

Alfred paused the video. "Based on our usual calculation method, Bruce, unfortunately, won again."

Barbara sighed. "Using his best friend should be considered cheating. Nobody else involves their best friend in the game. It would make it more interesting if they did."

"If I may say, young lady, except for Roy, nobody else would want to participate. Besides, the great asset of Clark is his invulnerability. They are all careful not to include too much of his weakness."

Barbara snorted, "None of that young lady thing. You're on vacation. You should go more often. They're even more hilarious when you're not there. It's as if they really think mice are allowed to dance when the cat is absent."

Alfred laughed. "Letting them be on their own once in a while gives me a control group to compare how much worse they would be without my presence. Needless to say, I do believe it is a fair assessment to say I am irreplaceable."

"Of course, you are irreplaceable, Alfred." Barbara smiled. It was always nice to hear Alfred enjoying himself looking from afar at his brood as they tore each other apart.

They really all deserved each other.

 

[youcantsaymylastname made this hilarious drawing of Damian with squirrels for this fic. ](http://youcantsaymylastname.tumblr.com/post/184098632741/httpsarchiveofourownorgworks18109535-damian)

**Author's Note:**

> I know the question you all have in your mind is the following: why does Bruce hate garden gnomes so much? I have decided to offer you the condensed version of the story. 
> 
> When Alfred had newly become Bruce's guardian after his parents'death, he'd noticed Bruce didn't often step outside. He tried to have him play in the garden or with his toys. It all failed. He bought twelve garden gnomes to make it more kid-friendly (not Alfred's best plan, but, he was new at raising a kid). Bruce quickly noticed one of the garden gnomes would move around. He would use binoculars and traps to try and catch the culprit. Nothing worked. One day, the garden gnome appeared on his bed. Bruce refused to sleep on his bed for weeks after that incident. Alfred brought the gnome to Zatanna's father, asking whether there was a spell on it. Zatanna's father found it cute. There was a minor "gnome" magic on it, meaning it would pull pranks, but nothing dangerous. 
> 
> This might be enough to explain why Bruce hates garden gnomes. However, that is not the end of the matter. 
> 
> When Bruce took in Dick, the boy wanted to pay him back with a nice gesture for his first Father's Day. Going with his stereotypes (Bruce lived in one house year-long, he had too much clothing and all his food is high-class), Dick decided to buy Bruce a garden gnome (Dick is weird, okay?). Bruce pretended he liked it for a whole summer. The garden gnome was accidentally broken during a minor kidnapping incident at the Manor a few months later. Dick, being the curious kid he was, investigated the matter and found out there was no way the kidnappers had destroyed the garden gnome. Bruce had been the culprit. Dick pouted until Alfred explained Bruce's aversion of gnomes. 
> 
> Later on, when Dick moved out of the Manor, rebelling against Bruce, he bought two garden gnomes for his apartment: one staring out the living room's window, the other staring at anyone entering through the door. It was part of Dick's guilty pleasure to see Bruce pretend he didn't squirm under the garden gnomes'stares. At one point in time, Batman's help was needed to help 'Dick Grayson' survive an assault in his home and the two garden gnomes were 'accidentally' broken. 
> 
> As revenge, years later, Dick suggested to Damian that Bruce liked garden gnomes and that it was a fitting Father's Day's gift for Bruce. Damian soon figured out his father hated the thing. He confronted Dick with the issue. Dick was laughing so hard Damian didn't understand a word he said. Damian still used the information to his advantage in his war against Tim. 
> 
> I hope this explains Bruce's extreme aversion of garden gnomes.


End file.
